Days 35 & 36: De Ridder, Opelousas, Jackson

Yesterday the 91 mile ride from De Ridder to Opelousas was long and difficult with strong crosswinds and headwinds most of the way.  It might have been nice if we had had energy to look around much because we were riding through crayfish ponds and rice fields but we were so exhausted that we could only think of the miles.  I had left De Ridder ahead of John and stressing about the miles didn't even get off my bike at the first two SAGS.  That meant that I had to ride sixty miles without food or drink but finally met up with John in a restaurant in Mamou, Louisiana where we shared a Big Mamou" sandwich and some gumbo.  We were incredibly happy to get to a Comfort Inn in Opelousas and had a great night's rest.

Today was a wonderfully eventful and interesting ride-- the kind of ride I have been hoping for although it has had a bad ending.  We started with a 20 mile ride on a rather bad highway to the beginning of the Achafalya Swamp.  Because there was a very long and narrow bridge with no shoulder at all, Bubba decided to SAG all of us for 7.4 miles.  This was not a smooth operation but eventually we were all on the other side of the swamp and biked off again.  The crosswind was very annoying but we knew we were turning north in 12 miles (on LA Route 1) and at the point the wind was at our back.  We flew along and soon we were beside "False River", an oxbow that was once the main course of the Mississippi River-- cut off in 1722 by heavy rains.  This was a lovely ride with beautiful homes on both sides of the long narrow "lake".

Eventually we ended up on Route 10 east, heading toward the Mississippi.  The shoulder was great and with the wind at my back I was wheeling along merrily when suddenly I lost my focus and found myself in the weeds.  Having my hands in the center of the handlebars I was unable to brake and lurched along crazily through the tall grass, still hardly slowing at all.  Eventually, however, I thought I could turn slightly and regain the road.  In the attempt I hit the edge of the road and went flying down-- so much so that a passing truck stopped to see if I had survived.  Through great good luck I was shaken but not a bit hurt and was soon able to get back up and begin riding again.  This is actually the second time I have fallen spectacularly enough to make passing traffic stop-- I didn't mention the first time because I was stopped and taking a picture at the time and it was really nothing.  John happened to see my crazy ride through the weeds in his rear view mirror and had some bad moments waiting for me to gather my wits about me.

So, off we went again and soon, for the second time in two years, John and I bicycled across the Mississippi River.  This time it was on a new bridge-- the Audubon Bridge, just opened in 2010.  A beautiful bridge and certainly a memorable bicycling moment.

Our destination was "Perry's Bicycle Hostel" at mile 68.something.  I was horrified at first to find that there was only one shower for ALL OF US (45 people) but we set up a very sociable waiting line for the shower with beer and chat.  The shower was outdoors, with no dressing room and I saw a cute male butt and imagine that glimpses of my far less cute butt were to be had, but there was warm water and eventually we were all clean.

In the meantime Perry's son-in-law and two friends were doing a massive crayfish "boil"-- 250 pounds of them!  They had huge pots, huge propane tanks and burners and told me that they do boils every weekend.  They throw corn, heads of garlic, potatoes, lemons, onions and spices in with the crayfish and then spread the whole heap on long tables.  Riders and staff were picking for hours-- there is only a small amount of meat per crayfish-- you can eat scores of them and not feel full.

A bit squeamish  about all this pulling off of crayfish heads, I ate only a few that John picked for me (as well as some of the corn, potatoes and a whole head of boiled garlic ) and joined a few riders who had chosen to drink "mudslides" and listen to Cajun music on a sound system that was set up-- we all had a wonderful time and got sufficiently tipsy to dance.  Suddenly, however, at about 7:00 our hostess, Perry, began shouting at us saying that this was her home, not a public campground, and that we had to be quiet.  Her husband was trying to calm her but to no avail.   We were all instantly obedient and the music was turned off but apparently having such a large group here took her out of her comfort level.  Our information board listed toilet availability (very limited and apparently at least one in her private area) but in her anger she flounced over and erased all the toilet info, so we have no where to go  but in the trees.

I retreated to the tent to get away from the conflict but John reconnoitered  returned and reported that instead of staying here tomorrow for a planned rest day we are packing up and going to a motel!  Yikes!